“You know?” I asked.
“My mother and sisters were talking about it. They’ve seen the family come and go, and KokoGul mentioned something when she stopped by this week.”
“She stopped by your home?” I’d paid no attention to KokoGul’s whereabouts in the last two weeks.
“Yes.” The voice spoke quietly. “I can’t say I think much of that boy.”
“You know him?” He confirmed my judgment.
“Not very well. Here and there and from a distance. But we attended the same high school.”
“And even from a distance you have this opinion of him.”
“Some things are clearer from a distance. I don’t know if I should say more.”
“Whatever it is, you should say it. No one else is saying anything worth hearing.”
He told me about the boy’s mischief. Teasing girls, fighting with classmates, poor marks in school. Rumors circulated about him, things that my orchard confidante refused to disclose. Since the Firooz boy had graduated from high school, his parents were hoping marriage would mature him in a way age hadn’t.
I sank to the ground, pulled my knees close to me, and let out a defeated moan.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you, but I thought you should know. Your family should know.”
How could I tell my family? It wasn’t as though I could repeat things I’d heard from a strange boy I’d been meeting in the orchard.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. “My mother thinks their family is a good match for us. And my father . . . even when he’s in the room, he’s not around. He’s happy to leave things to my mother. I tried to tell her I didn’t want to be married now, but she’s not interested in what I want. She won’t believe anything I tell her about this boy. She’ll just tell me not to listen to rumors.”
“I see.”
My behavior was unforgivable. I’d revealed my private thoughts and our family affairs to our neighbor’s son, a faceless voice behind a wall. Where was my honor? And how could I trust him to keep our conversations to himself? I was suddenly flustered.
“Please excuse me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know why I troubled you with this. Please forget everything,” I said, straightening my shoulders and trying to shake the emotion from my voice.
“You are upset. You haven’t done anything wrong . . .”
“But I have. Please do not repeat any of this. I wasn’t expecting to . . . to be so . . .”
“You have my word. I will not say anything to anyone. But I will tell you something as well. I’m as troubled as you are with the news of this suitor.”
The orchard held its breath. His words hung in the air above the wall between us, lingered there far enough out of reach that he could not pull them back and I could not claim them. I didn’t want his words to float away.
“Why are you troubled by this suitor?”
He did not reply. I repeated my question and still heard nothing.
“Are you there?”
“I am here.”
“You did not answer.”
“No, I did not.”
The air grew thick with his reticence. I held myself back, not daring to fill the silence with my own inventions. I wanted only his words. In a flash of honesty, I knew why I’d come back to this spot day after day. I touched the wall, my hands trembling.
“I am going back to the house.”
“Fereiba-jan.”
He knew my name? I froze in my tracks. My skin tingled with anticipation.